Healing Dreams
by Cranky Crocus
Summary: Rosethorn/Lark. Rosethorn has some negative feelings with her body image. Lark only wishes to help, and believes the best remedy is...sleep? Very old writing.


_Dreams, dreams…_ the chestnut-haired woman thought as she drifted off to sleep. It was what her friend had told her to think of in this almost synthetic sleep. Sure, it was true sleeping…but she was in Lark's room, Lark's bed, in Lark's environment. Lark was next to her, singing and knitting. There was an odd tingling of magic in the room but Rosethorn ignored it. There was usually something wrong if there _wasn't _the tingling of magic in the air at Discipline.

"The ocean swelled upon the shore / and the concerned starfish was no more. / The little girl, lost and alone, / by the sun was quite outshone. / She cried in mourning / upon learning / about her family's undeserved demise. / The sea drowned out all of her cries / until the dry surrounded her eyes."

Eventually Lark's voice drifted away, the tune remaining but the words unnoticed. Rosethorn thought she observed a slight resemblance in the lyrics and her life, and…

A picture overtook her, similar to the nightmares she had experienced at one point. She had been told everyone experienced nightmares such as that from time to time. She was walking the winding path during a popular hour, stark naked. She looked down at herself and reddened from head to foot.

She wasn't fat or chubby, but she wasn't like most her age. Her work kept her strong but not outwardly fit. She was ashamed of the softness of her body, where the flesh bulged slightly. It was an embarrassment to her and now the whole path, many of her colleagues and friends, could see it. Tears began to sting at her eyes.

Arms appeared to whisk her away. Arms that were thin the way hers weren't. Dark, golden, smooth… She felt a robe envelop her and smiled as she was pushed gently behind a bush. At least she was covered now. She turned to look at her savior and found it to be Lark.

A very tall, beautiful woman… in her birthday suit. Goosebumps flecked her skin, for the weather had taken a sudden dive. The sun was behind a large cloud and wouldn't be coming out soon, while the wind picked up to pluck at Lark's dark hair and bring it directly into her mouth.

The woman covered as much of herself as she could with her arms as she spat out her hair. When she looked down to Rosethorn her dark eyes were pleading, humiliated. Although Rosethorn was safely out of sight behind the bushes, Lark was at the entrance and mooning the entire walkway.

The plant mage cried out as she reached and scooped Lark into an embrace, bringing the woman behind the bushes and onto the bench. The taller woman shivered into Rosethorn, silent and reserved. Her breathing was coming too quickly and her eyes were wet. Rosethorn imagined this Lark as the one from years ago, who had lost everything to a disease.

Rosethorn, who had been the naked one and had been fully exposed to everything and, had passed it onto Lark. Guilt ate at the younger woman.

She opened the robes and let it pass over the two of them, pressing their bodies together. Eventually they would have to make their way home. Somehow…

Lark yielded and let her head fall gently onto Rosethorn's, a great sigh escaping her lips. Rosethorn rested her head on Lark's shoulder.

It was quiet, as if life had been paused. Rosethorn didn't know if the people were truly walking the path. Everything seemed frozen.

The feeling continued even as Lark's surprisingly warm palm landed on Rosethorn's knee. It was soft, supple… Tumbler hands. It trailed up, leaving in its wake pleasantly goose-bumped flesh. Rosethorn shivered independent of the weather. Lark was keeping her too warm…hot…for that.

Now the hand revealed active fingers, moving quickly on Rosethorn's thigh. They made the woman squirm. A miniscule smile even graced her full, pink lips. Lark's face didn't show anything, nothing revealed about what she was doing. It was as if the ex-tumbler's hand was working on its own accord. It passed the crevice between the redhead's legs and reached up to her hip, stroking the bone lovingly.

It came to a stop on one delicately placed love handle, perfect for caressing and gentle care.

Lark's upper torso at last acknowledged the action of its limbs. The woman bent forward and pressed her lips to the skin just below one of Rosethorn's ample breasts. The shorter woman arched back, allowing her ribs to stick out slightly. The feelings made her body move.

The darker female continued down, trailing her lips or offering light pecks. When she arrived at the pudgier flesh around Rosethorn's belly, she took extra care to love the area. She smothered it in kisses and licks, nuzzles and light but warm breaths. For once, Rosethorn smiled at the thought of her stomach. Just because it was there and was receiving such exquisite attention.

"Mmm," she breathed. Unable to think of anything else, she murmured it again. "Mmm…"

Lark cupped Rosethorn's powerful thigh, using all of her fingers to massage the soft skin and the muscle beneath. The largeness of the thigh made it all the easier to love and hold, so the taller woman knelt down and shared secret kisses with it. Rosethorn's head journeyed back, her silent whispers of thanks exiting out into the now-warm air. The trees were calm at a cellular level.

The thread mage journeyed down, continuing to offer the product of her lips, tongue, and teeth. At last she reached Rosethorn's flower, past the thorn and past the self-conscious flesh. It was warm, inviting, fleshy and moist… Lark licked at the labia, extending beyond the outer lips. Shivers ran up Rosethorn's body and she gasped at the contact.

Lark probed deeper, catching the woman's true center. Receiving positive reactions, the catlike woman wandered up to prod at the attentive pearl. Rosethorn bit her lip and grabbed at the material of their shared robe. Lark reached up and replaced the fabric in Rosethorn's hand with a golden hand. The green mage opened her eyes for a moment and smiled down at her lover, uncaring of any double chin it could imaginatively produce. Rosethorn gave Lark's hand a gentle squeeze and smiled fully, her eyes lit from deep within.

As her golden lover brought her to an amazing climax, Rosethorn awoke to find herself comfortably in Lark's bed. Lark's room. Lark's environment. Lark's tongue…

Rosethorn rolled over and rested her temple on her bent elbow, allowing the sheets to hug her curves. Her womanly, beautiful curves with loveable meat and powerful muscles.

"Lark?"

The woman looked up, smiled, dropped her knitting to her lap. "Yes, Rosie?"

"You are amazing."

Lark put her knitting aside, slipped out of her nightgown, and slid into the extraordinarily soft sheets.

"You're amazing too, my love," she whispered into the slight waves of Rosethorn's hair. Rosethorn smiled up at her.

There was one thing the dream had been missing.

The smaller woman smiled up at Lark and pressed their lips together. Lark always kissed with everything she had, everything she wanted, everything one could dream for. This kiss was slow and steady, a kiss that cemented the knowledge that they fit and that Rosethorn worked the way she was. That Lark loved Rosethorn, fleshy curves and all.

Lark rolled over to top Rosethorn and proved it.


End file.
